Reality Folds
by Three Yellow Triangles
Summary: A collection of short stories.
1. Distinctive Clamors

The distinctive clamors of a pubescent bouncing off and on a stairway (bangs, grunts, thuds) ricocheted around the house, invading the matron's chambers. Roused from her slumber, she peered down the stairwell and beheld her son quavering on the last step. Should she have less faith in him, she might assume he was drunk.

"Wirt? Wirt, what are you doing?"

Moments passed before he turned around, shock illuminating his face, implying that he believed he'd gone undetected.

"I never saw her real face, mom. I _have _to see."

"Don't be ridiculous. Go back to bed, dear."

"...Okay."


	2. Small Talk

"What's your favorite color?"

The Woodsman paused, debating whether he'd heard his supplier correctly. He decided to have him verify his question.

"Come again?"

The dastardly silhouette chuckled, and slightly titled his head, taking a few steps out of the trees.

"I merely wanted to know your favorite color. We're partners, aren't we? It just occurred to me that it may be beneficial to get to know each other better."

Blinking once, the woodsman retorted. "I'm no partner of yours, Beast. Leave me to my work or I may decide to use you as fuel."

The Beast sighed in mocking exasperation. "Can a man not ask a question?"

It is of note, though, that he said no more.


	3. Circular Regret

Lorna dutifully prepared her and Auntie Whisper's midday meal, placing out the silverware and utensils (they really only possessed them for Lorna's benefit; Auntie Whispers could down a gourmet meal in one snap). She dished out the meal - roasted mushrooms and stream water - and took her place at the dining table.

The young provider called upstairs. "Our food is ready, Auntie!"

About seven seconds passed, as was the usual, before her surrogate-mother lumbered down the stairwell. "Your mushrooms look divine, dear. If it wasn't for you, Lorna, I'd eat everything raw." She chortled a bit as the image of her prowling the forest for game appeared in her mind. "And their spiced with dragonfly-powder, just how I like them!"

Lorna smiled a tad. How could she not take the effort to prepare their meals to her Auntie's preferences? She owed her everything. "Now that I have so much free time I just can't help but work harder when the occasion arises, Auntie Whispers!"

"Yes, our lives are much improved... ever since that cone-topped boy banished your demon, bless his soul."

As she swept crumbs from her mouth, she was jolted by a realization. Why hadn't she thought to ask before? Likely she'd been caught up in the joy of the moment, and she didn't care to dwell on the demon that had possessed a frightful amount of control over her. "Auntie," she said slowly, "why didn't you just banish the spirit in the first place? If it was that simple..." she trailed off, looking expectantly at her aunt's somewhat off-putting features.

A moment or two went by. Then, "Sweetie, the idea never occurred to me!" She laughed sheepishly. "Its obvious, looking back on it... But at the time it felt too simple. As if it was too easy to work."

"I know what you mean," Lorna said wistfully, as her thoughts returned to that time that felt so long ago, when she was eagerly running away with a well-spoken boy into the woods. Not infrequently did she wonder how things might've been.


	4. Analogous Beings

Some days, Wirt would sit by the pond and gaze into it for hours. Usually, all he could glimpse was his own self-proclaimed hideous, awkward self. No, scratch that: that's all he ever saw. He wondered at the mystical properties of the swampy water, whether it was really some sort of gateway into a surreal, self-contained world, or if he and Greg had experienced some sort of freaky event where they had similar dreams. He didn't touch it out of respect, just in case, so that he wouldn't soil it's otherworldly qualities. Though he'd almost lost his life to the pond, he felt a kind of strange veneration for it, as if him and it were kindred souls (assuming such could be said of a teenager and a small body of water).

They did have a few shared aspects, though. The pond was shielded from sunlight by the dead trees above it, never to relish the warmth of natural light. Wirt felt as if he was being safeguarded from a grander life, one with less routine and monotone. His definition of 'grand' did conflict with most; he envisioned living in a small apartment in the big city, spending hours reading at a library and exploring the arts and you know, occasionally showing up to work to make sure he didn't starve.

"My mom and Greg have been worried about me, you know." Wirt sat on the edge of the water, his legs enveloped by his lanky arms. "They think it's unhealthy for me to spend so much time at the location of the - the accident."

The pond remained silent, perhaps indicating for Wirt to elaborate further.

"I mean, it's wonderful, amazing really, that Sara has taken an interest in me, and my grades are fine and my parents say I have a grandiose future in front of me. It's just that, now that I've taken a peek at some magical world, hidden just beyond a thin veil from the rest of the planet, where logic has no foothold and the arts are appreciated and accepted, or dare I say that they are the norm, well... " He sighed softly, leaning closer to the pond's surface, his glimmering eyes staring back at him. "I'm not sure that I'm cut out for this dull existence. How can I be expected to leave such a beautiful world with possibilities everywhere, and return to this, this tedium? I've only seen a fraction of what's out there."

Wirt leaned back, and laid on the grass. Now looking at the bare branches above him, he spoke again. "I've asked myself these same things for weeks now. I must make my decision soon, you know. I can't meander around the issue for the rest of my lifespan. I couldn't very well take Greg with me, not after... not..."

He jolted back up, shocked with himself. "The way I'm talking you'd think I'm certain that such a place really exists! Most likely I'd jump in the river and freeze to death for sure. Crazy, crazy..." A little disturbed that he'd so managed to delude himself, he stood and climbed back up the hill. His mind was clear, now. He was almost convinced that the Unknown was only some concoction of his sorrows and imagination. Yet even as he walked back to town, a pervading thought echoed throughout his mind repeatedly.

_You're walking away from your destiny. You are going to destroy your only chance of a better life. If you wait too long, the gate might close for good! Who knows how it works? You should at least attempt it, just to get closure. _

Groaning from the headache he was developing, he clutched his hands over his head. "God, just shut up, please." His convictions were always wavering. "Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll try. Will that appease your incessant demands? Ugh..."

* * *

><p>"Beatrice, come inside. Your dirt is ready!"<p>

The youthful, one-time polymorph sat on her porch, gazing at the sky. Without turning her head, she answered her mother's demand. "I'm not hungry. I'm waiting for him, you know."

Exasperated, her mother in a flourish turned back into the house, muttering about wasted time and lack of appreciation.

"He'll be coming any day, now. I'll see him again soon."

Smiling, she rose to her feet and went inside, hoping that her food hadn't cooled yet.

"Anyday now."


End file.
